


Overindulgence

by spurious



Category: Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Community: k8_exchange, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spurious/pseuds/spurious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Yoko's had the day marked on his calendar for a few weeks now.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Overindulgence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodybrilliant](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bloodybrilliant).



> Written as a pinch hit for k8_exchange 2009 and originally posted [here.](http://community.livejournal.com/k8_exchange/5519.html)

Yoko's had the day marked on his calendar for a few weeks now. After The Quiz Show has ended, at the tail end of the tour, a day circled in red pen, with a few happy faces drawn in for good measure. Ohkura had told him about the restaurant in excruciating detail, reliving every succulent bite of every course, clearly enjoying Yoko's pain. When he'd finished, Yoko was about ready to strangle him. He was trying not to pay attention, until he heard, "Oh, and I was thinking we could go there once you're done with your diet."

The day of, he skips breakfast in preparation, choosing a pair of pants that are a little too big so he'll have room. He's had some big meals since the show ended, gotten dragged to yakiniku more than once, but Yoko's sure this will be the meal that tips the scale back toward a complete rebound. Before he leaves, he looks in the mirror and says goodbye to his skinny self, laughing.

His hand on the knob of the restaurant's front door, Yoko feels a pang of nervousness over hanging out with Ohkura alone, but he swallows it down. If things get awkward, he thinks, he can just pretend to be really absorbed in the food. Ohkura will understand that.

Ohkura's already there, sitting at a table in the corner. The table looks big enough for at least four people, a booth wrapped around one edge. Ohkura is sprawled right in the center, a plate of appetizers already in front of him.

"I thought we'd try the sampler," he says, by way of greeting, when Yoko shoves his way into the booth's remaining space. He orders a drink before settling in to look at the menu. Everything looks good, and Yoko finds himself staring at the menu, half-dazed, before Ohkura elbows him to ask if he knows what he wants.

Between the two of them, they order about half of the menu, and soon their table is laden with all manner of food. There's little room for actual conversation among the tasting, other than "try that one!!" and "this is DELICIOUS!", and Yoko is too busy enjoying the food to remember to feel awkward.

"Okay, I give up," Yoko says eventually, leaning back away from the table, which now looks more like a war zone: sauces splattered across plates of food scraps, utensils and glasses and paper napkins discarded in a heap. There's still some food left, a few pieces on a few plates, but Yoko passed full about twenty minutes ago, and now he feels like he knows the true meaning of the word "stuffed". Ohkura grins, and Yoko thinks he might be judging him for not being able to finish.

"It's not my fault!" he whines. "When you diet, your stomach shrinks so you can't eat as much." Ohkura looks troubled, and Yoko thinks he might have just put him off of dieting forever. "I think," he adds hastily, "it can stretch back out, though."

After a brief argument about who should pay (they split it), they drag themselves out of the booth and into a taxi bound for Ohkura's apartment. They end up collapsed on Ohkura's bed, too full to do much else.

"Fuck, that was good," Yoko says, rolling onto his side.

Ohkura grins, pushing a strand of hair out of his face. "I told you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Yoko breathes, and before he can second-guess himself, he's leaning in and kissing Ohkura, sliding fingers through his hair. Ohkura hums against his mouth, kissing back lazily after a few seconds, like his mind is on a delay. Ohkura tastes like everything they just ate, and that thought really should make Yoko sick because he's too full to think about food right now, but it just urges him on, licking into Ohkura's mouth after the taste. He feels Ohkura's fingers on his side, slipping down past his waist, and just as Yoko sucks Ohkura's lower lip into his mouth, Ohkura slides a hand under his shirt. The light touch tickles a little and Yoko can't help but laugh breathlessly, breaking the kiss. Ohkura's lips are red and wet, slightly parted, his hair tousled from Yoko's grip. Their eyes meet and Ohkura laughs too, brushing his fingers over the ticklish spot again.

Yoko looks down, where Ohkura's hiked his shirt up, and reaches down to grab the button of Ohkura's jeans, the laughter stilling. He looks up again, catches Ohkura swiping his tongue over his lower lip, and his breath hitches. When Ohkura's hands find the fly of Yoko's jeans, he leans back in, pressing their lips together. He feels the rumble of Ohkura's low moan when he slides his hand into his jeans, palming the bulge of his cock through his boxers. When Ohkura gets Yoko's jeans open, he pulls back from the kiss, breathing hard. Pulling his hand out of Ohkura's pants, Yoko shoves them down hastily, licks his palm, and wraps his hand around Ohkura's cock. Ohkura shudders, his hand stilling until Yoko pushes his hips pointedly forward.

The first slick slide of Ohkura's hand around his cock makes Yoko moan, his forehead knocking against Ohkura's as he squeezes his eyes shut. Neither of them is moving very fast, but there doesn't seem to be a reason to; Yoko's limbs are heavy and tired from the meal, and he's sure Ohkura's no better. It's easy to get lost in the physical sensation of Ohkura's hand wrapped around his cock, Ohkura's hair falling against his face, the soft press of Ohkura's lips against his own. It almost sneaks up on Yoko when he comes, curling in on himself with a groan. He swipes his thumb over the head of Ohkura's cock, squeezing, and Ohkura comes too, almost silent save for a heavy exhalation of breath.

"Man," Yoko says as they clean themselves up, "I didn't expect to have room for dessert." He grins.

"If Murakami-kun were here," Ohkura grumbles, "he would hit you right now." He pauses, then adds, for emphasis, "and you would _deserve it_."


End file.
